Chapter Two #2
Grier directed Delta to the snacks and followed Katie to a quiet corner. “Hi, Katie. What can I do for you?”
“It’s not me, actually,” Katie explained.
“One of the pilots is having trouble with their hand—an old injury flaring up from today’s activity.
Captain Parrish is considering canceling the remainder of the rides, but I asked her to let me talk to you first. Maybe you could take a peek and work some magic—save the day, you know? ”
“Sure, I’m happy to see if I can help. My niece has been looking forward to this all week; I’d hate to see it canceled. Where’s the pilot?”
Katie motioned behind Grier. She turned as a voice said, “Hi, are you Dr. Savage?”
“Yes, I am. What’s going on with your hand?”
“Oh, no, not me—sorry! I’m Captain Parrish.
” She extended her hand to shake Grier’s.
“My co-pilot, Captain Maes, has an injury from a helo accident a few years back, and it’s flaring today.
I don’t want to pose a risk during flight, but if you’d be willing to treat her and give her the all clear, I’m hoping we can finish our final two flights. ”
“I’m happy to see if I can help. Where is Captain Maes?” “Right here,” came a reply beside her.
Grier turned to take in the woman who had just breached their little triangle.
Before her stood a tall, objectively gorgeous woman in a flawlessly fitted captain’s uniform, down to the pink-and-orange mirrored aviators that perched atop her hat.
Grier took in her long, square face, devastating green eyes softened by delicately high cheek bones, and waves of mahogany hair cascading behind her shoulders.
Grier’s gaze caught on her lips, which were elegantly thin, set in a slight pout—currently pursed— and Grier wasn’t sure if it was from pain or annoyance at being ambushed for treatment.
Grier’s mouth hung open far longer than polite, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the woman.
She heard the other pilot say something, and realized she was being introduced.
She coughed, trying—and failing—to startle herself into composure.
“I… I’m Dr. Savage. Grier! You can call me Grier.
” She thrust out a hand, overshot in her fluster, and accidentally grazed the woman’s breast. “Oh! Oh, my goddess! I’m so sorry!
” Her face instantly turned a shade of crimson formerly thought only possible of the Kool-Aid Man.
What the hell was that? She was a professional.
Sure, she usually worked on kids, but it’s not like she was a stranger to adults.
Or beautiful women. But, damn. This captain took the idea of beautiful to a startling new level.
Grier struggled to breathe around her. Here she was, trying to keep the rides from being canceled, yet somehow, she had just groped one of the pilots—who was also in pain.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and hoping it looked more like embarrassment than anything else.
Was that a smirk in the corner of the captain’s eyes? Fuck. Those eyes. Grier was staring again.
“Do you wanna shake your head again?” the captain jabbed quietly. Double fuck. Was she that obvious?
“Huh? Oh. Sorry,” Grier cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus. She had to redirect this before she crashed and burned. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I shattered my ulna in a chopper accident about three years ago. Had a plate and several screws during healing, but begged them to take it out once the bone fragments were set so I could keep as much of my range of motion as possible. It bothers me with overuse sometimes, especially with all the entering and exiting the box office—” She coughed, and Grier noticed a slight flush color her throat.
“Cockpit. Today it’s flaring up. It’s really tight. And progressively painful.”
The captain’s embarrassment was palpable. What was that—box office? Was that a lesbian joke? Grier shoved that thought aside for the moment. She held out her hands, palms up, “May I touch you? Your arm, I mean?”
Shit. The Kool-Aid Man coloring was breaching the surface again. What the hell was happening? Why was she so flustered?
Captain Maes began to unbutton the cuff of her silver button-up shirt and roll the sleeve up, revealing a sleeve of ink that trailed from her wrist and disappeared under the remainder of the shirt above her elbow.
Grier swallowed the lump in her throat and could actually feel her pupils dilate as she traced the line of tattoos with her eyes.
A phoenix wrapped its fiery figure around the scar lining her lateral forearm.
Was this real? She had to be dreaming, right? Grier’s mind was rapidly spinning out of control. She risked a glance at the woman’s face and found her staring right back, unblinking.
Grier’s mouth dried. She recovered quickly—or at least she hoped she had.
Time felt like it was standing still. She averted her eyes, focusing on the woman’s toned forearm, gently pressing her fingers and thumb into the muscles and feeling the texture of the scar tissue beneath the skin.
Her muscles were incredibly taught, and she felt a mild warmth near the elbow, along with some swelling.
She pressed her thumb into a muscle a couple inches below the elbow and heard the captain inhale sharply.
“I’m sorry! You have a nasty knot right here.” She allowed herself a quick peek at the captain and saw the woman’s jaw muscles clench, though her eyes remained soft as they watched Grier touch her.
“Here, take my other hand for a second.” Grier offered the captain her palm, and the captain gently took it.
Grier’s stomach dropped at the contact of the other woman’s warm, soft hand in hers.
Her hand tingled at the connection as she shifted her palm slightly under the captain’s, straightened their fingers against each other, moderately compressed the knot in her forearm with the thumb of her other hand, then slid her fingers between the captain’s and deviated their wrists side to side.
“Any pain with this?”
“Yes, but it also feels kind of good,” the captain said earnestly. “The pressure is uncomfortable, but I don’t want you to stop.” Grier noticed that she had closed her eyes, and her heart compressed slightly, realizing this woman’s pain was relenting under her careful touch.
“Good. Okay, I’m going to intensify things a bit. Are you ready?” The captain opened her eyes and met Grier’s gaze directly. Grier wondered if she was searching for answers on what to expect or looking for comfort. The thought thrilled her more than she could give words to.
“I feel like I should warn you,” Grier said quietly, instantly feeling the captain’s forearm muscles tense beneath her fingers as she waited for the rest of the warning.
“I’m a hate-me-now, love-me- later kind of woman.
” She held the captain’s green eyes, which had lowered just slightly to take in the quirk of Grier’s devious smirk.
The captain chuckled. “I appreciate your warning. I’ll take my chances.” She nodded at her arm, breaking their eye contact, then closed her eyes as she waited for Grier to proceed.
“Cool phoenix!” Delta whispered reverently, having sidled over to see what Grier was up to. “My Auntie loves phoenixes! Well, mostly she loves Captain Phoenix from Top Gun: Maverick. She thinks pilots are hot.” Delta grinned mischievously and nudged Grier with her elbow with absolutely no subtlety.
This child, Grier thought, rolling her eyes inwardly as she closed them in an unsuccessful attempt to ground herself. “She’s hot, Auntie. Get her number. Or do you want me to?”
“Delta!” Fan-fucking-tastic. Any hope of salvaging her ego today just blew away with the words of an eleven-year-old.
“What? My game is better than yours. Who can resist this face?” Delta taunted her, grinning widely and batting her eyes as she looked up at Grier.
The captain didn’t pull her arm away while Delta heckled her, leaving it rest in Grier’s hands and letting that tingling sensation linger in her fingertips.
Captain Maes chuckled again. Gods, it was airy and sexy, and hit Grier right in the heart—squeezing in a way that was both uncomfortable and enticing. What the hell was that sensation?
“I’m not sure if I’d call that game, but I appreciate the compliment—even from a kid. How old are you, anyway?”
“Eleven! And I usually get what I want. I mean… face!” Delta turned her smile and batting eyelashes toward the captain, circling her face with a finger.
“Apparently candidness runs in the family. Is that genetic, you think?” The captain smiled humorously at Delta, then briefly glanced at Grier with a look she couldn’t quite read.
“I’m working. Please go have a snack and wait with the other passengers.” Did she sound flustered? Gruff? What was going on with her voice?
“I’m good. And I already went to the bathroom, so you can forget that option, too. I’ll stay right here and watch.” She beamed—deviously.
“She’s okay. Really. I don’t mind,” the captain offered. “Comic relief is helping distract me from whatever torture you call this.”
Grier quickly searched the captain’s eyes for evidence of pain.
“Am I really hurting you? Please tell me to stop if I am. It’s supposed to be uncomfortable, but not painful.
” The gentle worry in her voice was real—she wanted to help, and she definitely did not want to remove her hand from the comfortable working position between the captain’s fingers.
“Dr. Savage, I was kidding. Please, continue. It feels good. Really.” And then she smiled at Grier.
Grier’s heart squeezed for the third time that morning.
Grier straightened her shoulders and spine, all five feet three inches of her frame, and steadied herself. “Right. Okay. Can you copy me?” She demonstrated the motion she wanted the captain to follow, and the captain mimicked her.